


bloodsport

by xnowimnothing



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Cutting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Knifeplay, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/pseuds/xnowimnothing
Summary: John lets Tim drag him into the woods.





	bloodsport

They met at a party a couple of hours earlier. 

Tim suggested they go somewhere private, because things were heating up, with Tim’s breath on John’s neck and his hand on his inner thigh. 

John accepted, and he thought some room in the house would be okay for what they were about to do, but no, Tim took his hand and led him outside, guiding him into the woods and among the trees, their steps creaking on the dead leaves on the humid ground. 

And there they are. They’re sitting on the dead leaves on the humid ground, lips against lips, tongue against tongue, groans filling the thick October air around them. John grabs the back of Tim’s head with his hand and pushes it closer to him, moaning in his mouth, thinking about how hard he is, how hard he wants him inside his hole. The second John moves his hand to unzip his own pants, Tim stops kissing him and pulls back. 

“Wait a second,” he says, breathless, hurried. “I want you to be able to see me.” 

He grabs a couple sticks on the humid ground and lights a fire next to them. Then he sits down next to John again and picks up where he left off. 

Tim takes John’s pants off, wrapping his hand around his shaft in a fist, stroking him gently, dryly, and John moans, he moans shamelessly because they’re in the middle of a forest and no one can hear him and Tim’s hand is warm and rough and fucking pleasant around John’s cock. He watches Tim’s face, lit by the fire on one side, the warm light projecting shadows onto his handsome features; Tim’s looking back at him with languid eyes, biting at his own bottom lip. The warm color of the fire counteracts the cold tone of his irises, and he’s beautiful, just so fucking beautiful. John wants him with every bit of lust he’s ever had in his body. He can feel his dick jerk in Tim’s hand, and Tim chuckles at that, the sound coming out sweet and low. John captures his lips in his own again. 

Tim lowers himself a bit after another passionate kiss, his face dangerously close to John’s cock, and bites his lip again before licking the precum off the head. John groans, grabbing Tim’s hair, caressing his head and then pressing his hand gently against the back of Tim’s neck. Tim takes the head of John’s dick in his mouth, sucking and moaning around it, eyes closed, and then takes all of it in. John can feel himself hit the back of Tim’s tender throat, getting past it until Tim’s lips reach the base of John’s cock, nose in his pubic hair, right hand playing with his balls. 

John sucks in a breath, pants Tim’s name and starts fucking his mouth, just barely, nothing brutal, just enough to make Tim gag, but Tim doesn’t protest, he keeps his mouth still, letting John move his hips. Tim’s mouth is so warm, so welcoming, tight and soft, and John moans every time his tongue brushes against the underside of his cock, Tim so greedy, like he wants to swallow him whole, like he wants to suck the life out of his hard cock. 

Tim looks enthusiastic about sucking his dick. He’s relentless. This observation alone is enough for John to reach his limit, and God, he’s about to come, but Tim pulls off just seconds before he does. John whines, Tim chuckles and kisses his lips. 

“I want to fuck you,” Tim whispers in his ear, and John shivers, letting Tim kiss his carotid artery. Tim starts taking his own clothes off, thick dick popping out of his jeans, and John can’t help it, he just has to touch it. He’s stroking it, and in a second they’re in an horizontal position, Tim on top on John, on the dead leaves on the humid ground, their bodies warmed up by the fire next to them. 

“Do you have lube?” John asks, looking up at the pale moon above them while Tim is still mouthing at his skin, his mind not entirely there. 

“No,” Tim says between kisses. 

“Then how are we…” John manages, then groans. 

Tim giggles. 

“We won’t need it,” he says, pulling off then grabbing his bag and rummaging through it for some seconds. 

What he pulls out of it, John could never expect. 

“What the -,” he begins, eyes wide, but Tim shushes him, putting his finger against his lips. 

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Tim says, eyeing the knife in his other hand, playing with it with his fingers. “It’s just that I… have some weird kinks. That I totally feel like engaging in right now with you,” he says, moving his hand from John’s mouth to his hair, yanking his head down. “And you won’t be able to say no.” 

John screams at those words. 

He screams and all he wishes he could do is run away, but his body is somehow paralyzed. 

Tim watches him scream and laughs when he stops. 

“No one can hear you from here,” he says, calmly. “You’re gonna enjoy this, I promise.” 

And he comes closer to John again, gently biting at his skin and pulling at his hair. 

John is frozen by fear. His body feels somehow detached from his head, not collaborating at all, completely numb and he even gradually loses the ability to feel Tim’s touch. 

“What, where did your boner go?” Tim asks, somewhat disappointed. “I thought you liked me. You even let me drag you into the woods.” 

John doesn’t answer. He can’t, he doesn’t have a mouth to do that. 

Some moments pass in silence. 

“Oh, I see. Fear’s taken over, but this way you’ll be missing all the fun...” Tim says, doing things with the knife on John’s skin he can’t feel, but he can see, he sees what Tim’s doing to him, and he panics, but he doesn’t move. 

The blade traces red lines on John’s inner thigh, blood dripping out of them, and Tim lowers his face to lick at it. Then he brings the blade to his skin again, this time close to his limp cock, and draws a shallow cut at the base of it. 

This time, John yells. 

This time, John gets back to reality. 

He starts struggling, but Tim’s fast enough to stop all of his movements, all of his punches and kicks, and Tim blocks him by sitting on top of his lying figure, straddling him. 

“Don’t be a bitch,” Tim hisses, threatening him with the knife pointed at his face, very close to it. “I said I’m not gonna kill you. Don’t make me change my fucking mind.” 

John gives up. He gulps, his heart in his throat, his hands cold and trembling. 

“What-,” he says, stuttering, tears forming in his eyes. “What are you gonna do to me?” 

“I told you. I wanna fuck you.” 

“But why the - why the knife?” 

“Didn’t say I’m gonna fuck one of your pre-existing holes.” 

John screams and then starts sobbing. 

Tim shifts on John’s body, but he still sits on it making it so that John can’t move. He fumbles in his bag again and this time he pulls rope out of it. He proceeds to tie John’s hands on a tree beside him, then his feet to a fallen trunk, John crying out, writhing, Tim giving him no chance to break free. Then Tim straddles John again, this time backwards, so John can’t see what he’s doing, but it doesn’t take long for him to find out. Tim is cutting John’s leg, and the deeper the blade goes the louder John yells, but no one is coming to save him, no one can hear him. He sobs again when he realizes this. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, stop that,” Tim says, and proceeds to grab the closest piece of their clothing he can find on the ground and shoves it in John’s mouth. John keeps crying, the sound coming out muffled, until he’s silent, his head aching and throbbing. 

Tim is still carving his skin on the same spot on his thigh. John can feel the blood coming out of the wound, and Tim’s digging fucking deep, but John knows nothing more because Tim is blocking the view with his bare back. 

“Ah, fuck,” Tim suddenly says. “I finally got past the fat. Not that you have much of it. Now I gotta work through these muscles.” 

John can hear his own laboured breath over the ringing in his ears. His eyes are wet and his vision blurry. 

_ I’m not gonna survive this _ , John thinks.  _ It’s over.  _

“Fucking finally,” Tim exclaims after a few minutes. “Done. Wanna see?” 

John shakes his head vehemently, shutting his eyes tight as Tim gets off him, but then Tim goes behind John and sits down, taking his head in his hands and holding it up. 

“Look,” he says sharply, holding John’s chin up. “Open your fucking eyes.” 

And John does. 

There is a pool of blood by his leg, his thigh is covered in it and the deep, dark red wound is still gushing. John deliberately avoids looking at his injured dick. He starts sobbing again. 

“Shh,” Tim says, quietly, almost cradling him. “It’s gonna feel nice. I had to make it big enough to fit my cock, so it took a little longer than expected.” 

He gets up and moves to sit in front of John again, straddling his legs just below the laceration, shaft in his hand. 

“What do you think,” he says, glancing at the wound and then at his own cock. “Is it gonna fit? Should I make it bigger? Or deeper?” 

John screams a muffled scream at that, and Tim chuckles low. 

“Just kidding,” he says. He aligns his hard dick with the wound and starts fucking it immediately. John feels like he’s about to throw up, feeling both dizzy and extremely disgusted; the pain in his leg is endless and unbearable, spreading throughout his whole body and reaching his dull brain every time Tim fucks into him, pounding hard. Tim is moaning and panting, his cock utterly covered in blood, disappearing in John’s flesh and then resurfacing over and over again. 

He’s ripping John open. 

Tim groans John’s name and increases his pace, digging deeper into John with every thrust. He increases his pace until he stills, coming inside the wound. 

It fucking burns. John can’t see, his eyes wet and his vision blurry, but it fucking burns when Tim’s cum fills John’s gash up, and he screams, muffled and in vain yet again. 

Tim rests on John’s body for a few moments after he’s finished, dick still inside him, and all John can do is listen to the ringing in his ears, trying not to pass out. 

Then Tim reaches an hand to his bag and rummages through it again. John isn’t sure he is even registering things any more at this point. 

_ It does feel like a dream _ , he says to himself.  _ So it must be _ . 

“Here it is,” Tim says, getting his hand out of the bag, but John can’t see what he’s holding. 

Tim sits up and shifts a little on John’s body, pulling out and covering the wound with his hand so that nothing comes out of it, and he straddles his shins. Then he lowers his face on John’s thigh, kisses the gash, and passes thread and needle on its extremity. 

John whines and tears up as he observes Tim sew his wound with his burning cum inside. 

“You will never forget about me, will you? You’ll always have a little bit of me inside you,” Tim says, stitching the wound carefully and never looking away from it. 

John sobs. He closes his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> title is a SKOLD vs. KMFDM song


End file.
